Running Up That Hill
by MagnusPr1m3
Summary: Everyone has slowly drifted apart; Bruce is gone, Tony has retired, Clint has retired, Steve is still desperately searching for Bucky, and no one has any clue where Thor is. The Avengers are no more, at least not the Avengers the world had come to know. But, they all are happier. Or they tell themselves that, at least. One odd accident will bring them together again.
1. Prologue

_Author's note: Hi! So, saw Avengers: Age of Ultron, and this is just something that got stuck in my head. There may or may not be eventual pairings that were not featured in the movie. I'm not sure yet. But,, obviously, this is post AOU, so if you haven't seen that, DO NOT READ THIS. THERE WILL BE SPOILERS._

_Summary: Post-AOU. Retirement was meant to be nothing but smooth sailing, right? Wrong. Avengers do not retire, and Tony Stark finds that out at great personal cost. The others are left to try and pick up the pieces before Tony does something drastic, and worry about infinity stones all at the same time. The world just can't seem to stay saved._

* * *

**Prologue**

It was dark.

He could not move, could not breathe. It was dark. It was _dark_, and he thought that he just might suffocate on this darkness. Yet he felt nothing emotionally, not even fear at his inability to do anything. There was no anxious flutter of his heart at his inability to move, the one thing he had been able to do. He was not smart, not like his sister. He was the muscle, she was the brains. She had made all of the major decisions. His one purpose was simply to follow her lead and keep her safe while doing so.

How could he do that when he was… wherever he was?

. . .

Pietro's funeral was simple. Mr. Stark had volunteered more, a grand memorial even, but Wanda had declined. Pietro was cocky at times, but he would not have wanted that. He would have wanted to be buried by their mother and father, so that was what Wanda had them do. The tombstone was not grand, simply holding his name and the length of time that he lived.

The only people in attendance aside from herself were the other Avengers and that Fury man; the green one was not there, but she was not terribly upset by this fact. He had apparently gone missing. She could have tracked him, easily, but none of them had asked her and she was too busy grieving to offer it. Pietro, her other half, had died for these people, for her. Pietro was a hero.

And now he was gone.

They had both started out on the wrong side of the fight, originally siding with Hydra and then Ultron after. They had been the enemy, tried to kill these people. Yet, they welcomed her into the ranks. They attended her brother's funeral, actually saddened by his loss. The archer- Clint, she reminded herself- had actually felt remorse for the comments he had made against her brother. It surprised her, seeing that in the man's mind. He had not meant the remarks, yet he still felt responsible for Pietro's death. He did not make her brother save him and that boy. It was not his fault.

Then there was the demigod. A quick look into his mind showed endless amounts of sympathy, dark hair, and bright eyes. His brother, Loki, had died recently, too, but from the looks of it had been distant long before. Regret, for Thor had not been able to spend more time together with him. Pity, because now neither could Wanda.

The Captain felt similarly, although his brother was not of blood and still out there somewhere. To top it all off, he had been the one to carry her brother's body onto the helicarrier. Had he not, she would probably be unable to bury him. She would have felt his loss deeper, with no sense of closure. She was thankful to him, for having the foresight to grab her brother.

The assassin and Fury both felt saddened by lost youth, but both had seen plenty young deaths; many were younger than her brother. They mourned his lost potential more than they mourned him. She did hate them for this, though. It was in their nature, and they were strangers to her. She expected less than what they felt, honestly.

The most surprising mind for her to peer into was that of Tony Stark. She had hated that man since she had been a little girl that spent two days under a bed with her brother expecting to die any second. She had essentially started this hoping he would get himself killed. She had almost inadvertently cause the extinction of life on Earth in an attempt to make his life fall apart just as her and Pietro's had. She had brought this on all of them, killed her brother, but this man took all of that blame on himself and multiplied it tenfold. He brought Ultron to life, sure, but that was it. She planted the seed in his mind, had _helped_ Ultron. He had done nothing but write the code that made him sentient. Yet, he felt the loss of her brother so deeply without having known him. Glimpses of four young soldiers, an old doctor… The pain made sense after some discreet digging on Wanda's part. He was a bit of an asshole outwardly and hesitant to think out the consequences of his actions, but he cared so deeply for each and every loss that could even slightly be related back to him.

She wanted to hate him, all of them. But she found she could not do so. Not with how they mourned her brother by her side. Not with how they welcomed her to their group, trusted her like she had never been an enemy. Pietro would have loved them, would have flourished amongst them. Since he could not, she would do so in his place.

She would love them for Pietro.

. . .

It was taking some time to get used to not having his best friend speaking to him at all times. Tony had actually called for JARVIS more than once, feeling extremely saddened when Friday would respond instead. He felt like a part of him was missing. There was not anymore snarky comments when he was in the suit or working, merely pre-programmed remarks. Friday did no actually care for him.

Then there was Vision. The few times the other spoke, that ache would ease. To most people Vision was calm and respectful, but around Tony part of JARVIS must come out because no being not even a year old was capable of those levels of snark and sarcasm. The first thing after the whole shock of him being… Well, him that Vision had said to Tony had been some off-handed quip about how much Ultron hated him. JARVIS was in there, and not as just some voice module and ignored protocols. JARVIS was _alive._

"You seem lost in thought, Mr. Stark." _That voice._ Tony looked over his shoulder, offering the other a kind smile as he came to stand beside him. "I cannot say I am surprised, given all that has happened. Your expression is not very joyous, however. What ails you, Tony?"

"You always used to know. You could just _tell_." He crossed his arms over his chest and gave a shrug. He still was not sure how to act around him. He doubted that he ever would.

Vision's expression turned sad. "No, JARVIS used to always know. I… I am more than JARVIS, Tony. Surely you must know this." His tone was gentle, a tone Tony knew so well but he was right. This was not JARVIS. Not really. And it hurt. That hurt Tony more than anything else that had happened recently: Pepper not going to the party, everyone hating him, Bruce just disappearing. It hurt, deep and for reasons Tony did not want to think of. "However, I believe I now have better… insight into emotions. You can talk to me, Tony."

Tony gave a laugh at that. He half expected it to startle the other, seeing as he was still extremely young. But instead he found Vision grinning at him. Granted, he had all of JARVIS' memories. He could reference any other time Tony had reacted just like that. "Thanks, really. I don't need to burden you youngsters with my issues, though."

"Your friendship will never burden me, Tony." That tone was so sincere, so child-like. But still so very JARVIS.

The engineer smiled softly at Vision, nodding. "Thank you."

They both turned to their right at the clearing of someone's throat, spotting Steve still in his uniform. Tony rolled his eyes at that, but said nothing. "Vision, can I steal Tony for a bit? I believe you have drills soon anyway."

"Of course, Captain Rogers." Vision nodded a quick good bye to Tony before moving quickly away to the training are of the new Avengers base. Tony watched him go sadly before finally directing his attention to Steve.

"Time to go?" He asked, raising a brow at Steve. The Super Soldier nodded, and Tony sighed. "Retirement, here I come."


	2. Chapter 1

_**Author's note: **Don't get used to such frequent updates. I plan to try and keep it to once, maybe twice a week. I'm just getting this up now because the prologue is so short. Anyway, thanks to all of those that have reviewed, favorited, or followed so far. Your support is greatly appreciated.  
_

* * *

**Chapter 1**

Dreams were terrifying things. They had been when she was little, but after Ultron? They were unbearable. All she heard were those horrifying screams of the people she had inadvertently helped to hurt. She relived the feeling of Pietro being torn from her _over and over again._ Except, in her dreams, she was there. She saw the quinjet closing in on Hawkeye and a small boy, its gun firing rapidly. The archer held a steely expression, turning his back to the shots to try and protect the boy somehow.

And then there was her brother, her sweet Pietro. He was several yards away, but she saw him brace for the mad dash he would have to do. _Just grab them and run,_ she wanted to say. _Don't just save them, save yourself._ She did not want him to die, did not want to see it. She could not look away, though, as he sprint forwarded, colliding with a car turned on its side and shoving with all his might. The car barely made it in time, blocking Hawkeye and the boy from the shots. But not Pietro.

No, the bullets tore through him. She felt his pain all over again, but felt it like he had. It was slow, agonizing. Each bullet seemed to take an eternity to pass through his body; that had been his curse since they joined the experiment. While Wanda was almost always feeding off of other people's minds, sometimes struggling to shut it out at first, the world was just never fast enough for Pietro. Everything about him worked hundreds of times quicker than they normally would. She remembered in the beginning, when he struggled to talk slow enough for people to actually make out what he was saying. She had glimpsed in his mind how slow and dull the world seemed, how boring it could be. It seemed that being shot, just like everything else, was too slow for Pietro. Dying was too slow for him.

"You didn't see that coming," He managed to say to Hawkeye before collapsing. The archer stared at him stunned for a few moments, not processing what happened before he was quick try and save him. It was no use. Pietro was gone by the time he reached him.

Her dear brother was gone. _Gone_. She would wake from the dream each time, powers running rampant in her grief. The other furniture in her room would all go flying away from her, smashing against the wall in tiny pieces. The mornings, when she would tell the Captain that she required new furniture – _again_ – he would simply nod and have it ordered for her. She did her best to avoid sleeping to keep from causing anymore undo expenses. The lack of sleep became blatantly obvious, though. Her work was sloppy during drills. She was standoffish with Rhodey and Sam. She had so much trouble keeping from reading everyone at once. It was wearing her down.

She did not want to be there, to be _alive_, not without Pietro. She had to keep reminding herself if what Clint had said to her back during the battle. She had walked out of that door, had gone to help, because it was her job. She was an Avenger. Pietro would not have wanted her to run away from this, let alone kill herself. But, _god_, did she wish they had never met those people. She wished her and Pietro had never helped Ultron, that they had just run from there once Strucker was dead. Perhaps her brother would still be alive if they had. She would not be an Avenger, but that she would give up if it meant having Pietro back once more. She would give up everything for him.

. . .

He did not know how much time he had spent in the darkness before he could move. He still could not see, but there was feeling in his limbs again. He could raise his hands, feel the touch of his fingers against his face. Not just that, but he _felt_. He was elated for a while, glad to move and feel again. He could run, although he still could not see where he ran to. He did not run into anything, or trip. It was perfectly flat and smooth in the darkness. He could run for thousands of miles, until his lungs demanded a break, and not run into anything. It was so very freeing.

Then he felt sadness. It seeped into his bones, slowly. He did not notice it until his body felt heavy with it and his heart sank. It hit him full force. This deep, unending sadness because of _why_ it was so dark. He was dead. He had _died_, and left his dear sister in that cruel world by herself. Who would keep her safe? She could hold her own well enough, but she panicked easily. Who could protect her from herself better than him?

He found his voice in the sadness, weeping loudly for his little sister. He had always kept her safe, _always_. From the playground as kids to that damn Stark shell to when that Hawk man had electrocuted her. They had kept them separate at Strucker's facility for that very reason; the experiments had been hard on her, and he had lashed out at them more than once at her screams. Once he came into his powers and could control them, it had gotten worse. He had enhanced strength as well as speed. He could do tons of damage to them before they even knew what hit them. And he had many times, until Wanda had helped quiet his suddenly constantly working mind. She had quelled the rage in his heart, if only a bit. And in turn, he had kept her safe from other horrors: herself, Struckers men, and eventually Ultron and the Avengers. But who would do that in his stead?

His best guess would be the Hawk. Although he had initially attacked his sister during their first encounter, the man had been kind to them for the brief time they had been allies. He was the caring sort. He had nearly gotten himself killed to try and save a child that was not his own. He did not have to do that. He had a family of his own, and the archer could have easily told him or one of the others that could grab the kid much faster where he was able to. He had not grabbed one of the others, all who were busy making sure that the other boats were filled. He had done it himself.

And Pietro had died saving him. The other man would be dead if not for his quick thinking and quicker moves. He hoped that the Hawk would take this into account, and look after his little sister. For now he could not. And that fact hurt most of all. It solidified the sadness, giving it a permanent home in his heart.

. . .

Steve had visited the Smithsonian museums more times than he could count in D.C. Now that he had the new Avengers to manage and train, visits were extremely rare. In fact, there had really been none since SHIELD had fallen and the rest of the Avengers had joined him in the hunt for HYDRA. He had found time, though, while in the nation's capital for a conference. This was familiar, creeping around with a ball cap on and his hood pulled up. He bypassed everything else and went straight to the World War II section.

The displays around were all rattling off facts about the war, _his_ war, and his life. The old suit had been repaired and returned to its display, for which he was glad. He would not have used it if he had not needed it at the time. A small part of him had also hoped it would help jog Bucky's memory, but that had been much easier said than done. Bucky had been so resistant to everything, shouting at him and attacking in his denial. It had hurt, seeing his friend in such a state of obvious distress and having to fight him. Steve had thought that coming here, looking at the footage and photographs of them from back then, would ease the ache.

"They were close." The voice snapped Steve from his thoughts. His head snapped to the side almost too quickly, eyes wide in shock. There he was. He certainly looked worse for wear, face in desperate need of a shave and hair long and greasy. But it was _him_. His eyes were locked on the face of Bucky in the looped footage, searching. "That's what all of these exhibits say. What you claimed. But… I can't remember it all. I get bits and pieces of Bucky on good days, like today."

Steve took the brief pause the other took to speak quickly, "You just need help. You can recover, get better. Let me _help_ you." His voice was just above a whisper, coming out rushed in his anxious excitement. This was Bucky, but still not; his voice was too lost, eyes staring off. He was not running from Steve, or attacking him. He would count this as a win for now. "We have ways to give you back your memory. We could fix this, Buck."

"I don't _want_ to remember." Bucky sounded so broken, still staring up at his own smiling face. "There is more I forgot, old missions. I don't want to remember those, too. I read the reports of them, of what I did… I don't want to be reminded of all of the bad I have done. Even if I have to forget that." He gestured with a gloved hand to the mirror images of them on the display. "It is not worth it."

"Buck, you don't know what these people can do. This girl, Wanda-"

Bucky made a face, shaking his head. "No." He took a sudden step back, as if hit. Steve watched him curiously, an obvious internal struggle going on. Bucky shook his head again, more violent in the movement this time. People were starting to give them odd looks, giving them a wide berth. "I-I have to go."

Steve reached out to stop him, to beg him to stay, but Bucky moved quickly. He weaved in and out of the crowd, Steve doing his best to keep up. But, the other lost him and got away. Steve's heart fell at his old friend's words, but not by much. This was progress. Bucky had sought him out, had been rational in talking to him. Sam had said that Bucky needed to be stopped before, but this just proved that he had been wrong. Bucky could be saved. It was just a matter of getting Bucky to see that as well.

* * *

_So, Bucky is actually extremely important later on. He helps to drive the plot in later chapters (from what I have outlined anyway). We'll get more of Tony and the other Avengers in the next couple chapters. Hope you guys enjoyed that, and I'll "see" you all next week._


	3. Chapter 2

_Author's note: Brace for feels._

* * *

**Chapter 2**

"So, how's little Nathaniel been?" Natasha asked as she led Clint through the building, the archer's eyes sweeping the place as they moved. "I imagine Laura's having a bit of a tough time right now."

Clint shook his head as they approach the training hangar. "Nah, the kids have actually been a lot of help. Sleep schedule has been a bit fucked recently, but I'm used to it. God, has that kid got a set of lungs on him." He smirked when his friend laughed at that, shaking her head. It was nice talking about his family to her so openly, because he had spent so long _only_ talking to her in code or in private. Never had he thought he would be able to walk the halls of any base and just talk about his family without worrying for their safety. Yet, there he was doing just that.

"Any word from Banner?" He asked curiously, voice dropping to a softer tone as they rounded a corner. He just barely noticed her brief flinch at the other man's name, like she had been struck. He could not blame her for the reaction. It had been a while since he had seen Nat in an actual relationship, although he was not sure how much of an actual relationship Nat and Banner had before everything hit the fan. "I'll help you hunt him down." He offered, meaning every word. He had seen Natasha in all sorts of emotional states, but this one he was not fond of; the false strength hurt him to look at. This was not his best friend.

"If he wanted to be found, we'd have found him, Clint. There's no point." He frowned at her tone, following her to the double doors before the training room. "C'mon, we've got ducklings to beat into shape."

He laughed as they entered the room, not having heard that term in ages. "These guys are hardly SHIELD recruits, Nat. We never trained superhuman ducklings." As he said that, Sam came swopping down before him. He stumbled a bit as he retracted his wings, and Clint turned back to Natasha. "On second thought, maybe you're right. At least some of them are ducklings."

Sam puffed up a bit at that, tugging his goggles up. "Hey now, Hawkeye, I'm not superpowered or anything, but I've got more than a toy bow."

Both Clint and Natasha raised their brows at that, looking to the new Avenger. Natasha looked to Clint, giving a brief nod of her head. Clint ran his tongue along his teeth, smirking with a crack of his knuckles. "Oh, how I missed breaking in new ducklings." He muttered, stepping down the stairs into the main floor and approaching Sam. "Let's go, flyboy. I left the toy bow in my stuff, but I won't need it for this."

"Flyboy?" Sam blinks as the other comes to stand a couple feet before him. "You think you can take me down." The answering smirk was answer enough.

What ensued was a very embarrassing several take downs by Clint, on both Sam and later Rhodey. The latter had laughed when it happened to Sam – _repeatedly_ – and had sought to prove he was better. "He's not even armed, man." Rhodey had teased Sam, the other offering the challenge to better. He had not, which made it even more hilarious for Clint. Natasha and the other two recruits watched on, sharing in his enjoyment. He had both of them down in obnoxiously quick time frames, actually doing some minor damage to both.

"Either of you wanna give it a shot?" Clint offered the challenge up to the other two recruits.

Vision gave a firm head shake, holding his hands up. "I will save sparring for actual training, but thank you, Agent Barton." Wanda nodded in agreement.

"Hmmph. At least some of you have manners," He grumbled lightheartedly, shooting a teasing look towards Sam and Rhodey. "Now, let's get to the actual training. Hopefully you guys have learned that just cause I'm not the Captain, doesn't mean I can't whip you into shape. Now, Steve left pretty precise instructions about what drills he wants you running while he's in DC. So, get ready, we'll be running warm ups first!" He clapped his hands loudly, barking a quick, "Hurry up!"

. . .

"A farmhouse? Really, Tony?" Pepper actually sounded exasperated by the suggestion that they actually move out to the country, but there was the smallest of smiles on her face. Tony would count that as approval from the red-head. She looked at the picture he had pulled up, frowning some. "It's a bit run down, isn't it? Figured you'd want something more… Modern. Or big."

Tony laughed, although she did have a point. It was not as flashy as he usually went for. He shrugged, tossing her an easy grin. "I'm told that fixing them up is the best part." He swiped through a few more pictures of the farm, some including the dozens of acres of land surrounding it. "Friday, what do you think? Good place to settle?"

"The place has some very severe electrical issues, sir. It does require some work, but the potential for expansion is great." The AI chimed in. Tony pointed up at the ceiling, grinning.

"We've got the Friday seal of approval, Pep. I say we do it. Let's go." Honestly, this was as close to a marriage proposal as Pepper would probably get from him. He had even used the s-word. Maybe one day he would have the courage to make the full commitment; the thought of it was more than a bit frightening. He would fly nukes into portals to deep space over and over again, but pop the ultimate question? Nope. Pepper knew he loved her, and was committed. There was no need to, right?

"Who knew that the great Tony Stark would one day move to the country?" Pepper teased, snapping him from his thoughts with her laughter. His grin softened at that, slipping an arm around her waist. She leaned against him with a grin, looking to the pictures. "It'll be nice to see the stars and the sunset without all of the light pollution from the city. And we could always come back to New York to visit." Her tone goes soft as she talks, eyes getting lost in daydreams.

"Anything for you." It was terrifying almost how much he meant those words.

. . .

Something terrible was going to happen. His almost unending sadness was replaced by a sense of pre-mature dread. Something was wrong. Something was so very, _very_ wrong. He paced about the darkness, heart pounding away as he tried to puzzle out what this feeling meant. He had never gotten such a strong feeling like that before; generally things that seemed like premonition were Wanda's field of expertise.

If only he could have reached her. She would know what to do. Wanda always had the answers. She would know what made him feel so terribly _wrong_, like someone had their hand looming around his heart and could crush it at a moment's notice. Thankfully, he was already dead. But the feeling stayed, no matter how much he tried to push it away.

. . .

"C'mon, Wanda! You can do better than that, kid!" Clint called to the new Avenger, firing off another few arrows in her direction quickly. The first two disintegrated against the energy shield the projected, but the last slipped right through as the shield flickered and grazed along her side. It did not harm her, but certainly startled the girl and the shield fell away completely. "Focus! We're gonna be goin' against dudes with weapons a lot worse than a bow and arrow! And they won't miss on purpose, either! They're gonna shoot to kill."

"You think I don't remember that?" She snapped back, magic crackling at her fingertips. She heard Sam take a step back behind her, having been caught on the receiving end of one of her "tantrums" once already. "My brother _died_ because they were shooting to kill. I know very well how they are. I've _felt_ it."

"Then you should know more than anyone else how important it is to protect yourself." The answer is soft, that same gentle but urgent tone he took with her back in Sokovia. He nocked another arrow, not drawing back completely just yet. "C'mon, you've got this, girl. Just focus." He waited until she slowly pulled up the energy shield again, face an emotionless mask, before he let the arrow fly. Several more followed, each either bouncing off of the shield or disintegrating entirely. "There ya go! Keep it up!"

The praise distracted her briefly, a smile flickering across her face. The shield slipped up a bit, one arrow slipping through but breezing passed her. She huffed, pushing out more to strengthen it. She could do it. She would do it, for Pietro. Just like everything else she did. She would get good at this so no one else could be harmed like Pietro. It hurt to think that maybe, if she had been there, her brother would not have been endangered in the first place; if she had been able to cast a shield like this before the four of them, her brother, Clint, the boy, and herself would all have lived.

Her focus began to slip again as guilt rose within her, as well as her heart beat. Her lungs felt as if they were on fire and her heart pounded so loud it was the only sound she heard. It felt like she could not breathe suddenly and _nononononono_ she thought she was over these. She felt the shield evaporate all at once as she collapsed to her knees. She couldn't _breathe_. She could not hear anything aside from the sound of her frantic heart beat as she curled onto her side. She needed her brother. She needed Pietro. She couldn't- she couldn't get _calm._

"Wanda? Wanda!" Clint leapt over the rail he had been behind, rolling along the ground to try and soften his landing as him and the others rushed to the girl's side. He had no clue what happened. One moment she was perfectly fine, and then she just went down. He knew what was happening, though. He had enough panic attacks in his life to be able to spot one. "Easy!" He called to the others, motioning for them to slow their approach in case she lashed out. He knelt low, getting in her line of sight with his hands out. "Wanda? Hey, it's Clint. You're gonna be alright, okay? It's alright. You're fi-"

Her hand flew out suddenly, bright red sending him flying back. "_No!_" He landed against the wall with a grunt. He fell on his knees, sending Nat a quick thumbs up to say that he was okay.

Nat was not paying attention to him, though. When he looked up, he knew why. Standing there, looking as panicked as everyone else, was Pietro.

. . .

"_No!_"

He heard the shout, head snapping up to look for its source. _Was that…. no._ Either way, he dashed forward, trying to chase the echo of the voice. "Wanda!" He called, pushing his body as fast as it would go. There was a familiar red light before him suddenly, one he gladly ran into. _Wanda!_ She found him! He stepped through the light, skidding to a stop.

This place was not familiar to him, although some of the faces were. There, leaning heavily against a wall was the Hawk. He had died for him, had he not? Was the Hawk dead now as well? He turned around quickly, noticing the Vision and Black Widow, as well as two others he did not know. Had they all died? Was his death-

_Was his death for nothing?_

A whimper at his feet caught his attention, eyes snapping down to see the pitiful form of his sister. She had curled in on herself, hands digging into her hair. He knelt beside her quickly, running a hand along her side and trying to pry a hand from her ears. Soft, comforting words left him in Russian, a tongue he hoped the others would not understand. He watched as her shaking slowed to a stop, her muscles relaxing as well. "There, there. It is alright, yeah? You're just worked up over nothing." He mumbled, in English this time, as he gave a weak chuckle. He could not put much joy behind it. Something was _wrong_. He felt _wrong_. "Calm down, baby sister. You're fine."

"Kid?" The archer was the first to actually speak to him, pulling his attention from Wanda for a moment. The Hawk looked extremely confused, and probably a bit worried, as well. "You're-"

"Dead. Yeah, I know." He offered a bittersweet smile as he ran a hand absentmindedly through his sister's hair. The motion usually helped to calm her when they were younger. Their mother had done is a lot. "I don't know why I'm back, or for how long. I believe that is up to Wanda." He snorted as she finally seemed to come back to herself, wiping at her eyes and sitting up. "You always were full of surprises, sister."

She looked up sharply at that voice, not having truly registered who it was before. "Pietro?" Her voice is hopeful. He was back. He was _alive_.

"Da. Miss me?" He smirked at here, something she had missed so much. She moved to hug him suddenly, so happy to see him again.

And her arms flew right threw him. His form flickered briefly after that, and then he was gone.

Wanda sat there, staring off in horror almost. Her chin quivered dangerously, and she was soon letting out a sad wail, head thrown back as she cried for her brother. The others were not hesitant in going to her now, Clint being the first. He wrapped her in a hug and the other four followed suit. She cried and cried for what felt like an eternity for her dear Pietro, but it was really no more than twenty minutes.

He had been _so close_. And she had ruined it.

. . .

Tony was a bit startled by the crash from the kitchen. "Pep?" He called, moving towards it from where the two had originally been sat in the living room looking at possible properties to buy. "Did you drop something again? Really, between the two of us, I'm surprised we still have- Pepper?" He stopped his rambling when he entered the kitchen.

There, with two coffee mugs in pieces on the floor beside her, lay Pepper. Her hair was splayed out behind her, and her eyes stared blankly up at the ceiling.

"O-oh god, _fuck!_ P-Pepper, talk to me." He muttered as he quickly fell to his knees beside her, pulling her head into his lap as he shook her desperately. His heart worked rapidly in his chest, brain trying to think up anything that could cause _this_. "Friday! Friday, call someone, please!"

"Authorities have already been notified, sir. They are enroute." Friday answered, voice holding all of the calm he wish he had.

His fingers pressed shakily at her neck, searching for something. He rested his head on her chest when that gave him nothing. He choked down a sob, "_Nononononononono-_ Pep, please don't- Friday, I can't get her pulse!" He whined almost helplessly at the admission, because that meant only one thing.

_Pepper was dead._


	4. Chapter 3

_Author's note: Hi! Thanks for all of the reviews, favorites, and follows! It really means a lot._

_I've been considering pairings to put in here in later chapters. I'll like put a poll up on my bio with possible pairings. If you have one you'd prefer that is not in the poll, let me know in a review. Right now I'm considering:_

_Stucky_

_Stony_

_Science Boyfriends (if this one gets picked there will likely be stucky as well because ow feels with that ship)_

_But, I am always open to other suggestions. Let me know what you guys think._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Steve found Tony pacing along the hallway outside of the room he assumed could only belong to Pepper. The genius' hair was more of a mess than usual, what Steve assumed had been his suit jacket tossed on the ground. Half of Tony's shirt tail was untucked, looking just as rumpled as the rest of him. Clint, Natasha, and Rhodey all leaned against the wall a little ways down the hall, likely keeping a watchful eye on Tony. Steve gave a quick wave to them before approaching Tony, walking up to him slowly like one might a rabid animal. He had dealt with Tony in many a manic mood, but never one with such an underlying sadness as this.

"Tony, I heard what happened." He kept his tone soft, although it still startled the engineer some. Dark brown eyes were ringed with red, tears staining Tony's cheek and solidifying just how serious this all really was in Steve's mind. Tony Stark did not cry. To see him do so caused Steve's heart to ache for the man he had come to think of as such a close friend. "I'm so sorry."

"Cl-clinical death, Steve. Do you know what that is?" Tony's voice was ragged, stumbling over the words in his hysterics. He sucked in an awkward breath, obviously trying to hold it down and gain some sense of composure. "Her heart _stopped_ for seven minutes and thirty-two seconds. I-if she _survives_-" Steve watched as his friend choked helplessly on that word, rubbing angrily at the tears that slipped from his eyes. "If she survives, she'll likely have brain damage. S-something could happen later, after recovery, and cause her to die. She'll be _miserable_, Steve."

A firm hand landed on Tony's arm, squeezing roughly enough to pull him back from mental calculations of survival rates and life expectancies. His gaze snapped up, locking onto those damn blue eyes he had seen in many a stare down over the past five years. There was no hint of the captain in that gaze now, though. This was all Steve; the man who had cleaned up after him after many a drunken tantrum in Avengers Tower, and had somehow managed to do something Pepper had not always managed to do. He tempered Tony's erratic behavior with his calm, steady presence time and time again. Tony wished he could do that this time. How he wished that Steve could say just the right thing to make all of Tony's anger and sadness fade away for a bit.

Instead, all Steve said was, "I'm so sorry, Tony. I really am."

He lost it. Steve had somehow managed to fix everything, somehow. Sure, Steve could not cure Pepper, but he usually had comforting words of '40s wisdom for Tony to ignore. But he had nothing other than an apology, just like everyone else. Tony collapsed against Steve, the blonde slipping the hand from his arm and around his back to hold him up. Tony's fingers twisted up the grey material of Steve's sweatshirt as he clung to something real, sobbing loudly in a way that broke not only Steve's, but also the other three's hearts. Steve said nothing more to Tony, just holding him upright and letting him soak his sweatshirt through without complaint.

Rhodey approached after several long moments, moving to whisper something to Tony that Steve did his best not to pay attention to. Tony just shook his head, not voicing a reply as Rhodey clapped him roughly on the back. "I'm getting you some food. You have to eat." Rhodey spoke louder this time, alerting Steve to what he had likely asked Tony about before.

"Pepper wouldn't want you skipping meals, Tony." Steve scolded lightly, something the other would have teased him for generally. Tony just looked up at him brokenly, not even a hint of defiance there. "We don't have to leave. We can set up shop here in the hallway, if you don't wanna…" He trailed off and nodded to Pepper's room. Tony's eyes flickered in that direction, and Steve felt him tense. "We're here for you, Tony. You have to know that we just want you to be okay."

"I can't be okay. Not anymore."

. . .

He did not move from his spot in the darkness after coming back to it. He had thought… Well, he had no clue what he had thought, honestly. He just was not expecting to just suddenly be back. He had been comforting Wanda before her attempt to hug him, had touched her to soothe her panic. Yet, a touch had sent him back. Or maybe it was not the touch. Maybe he had run out of borrowed time. Which sucked, because he had not had time to ask Wanda about that sense of wrong that still stuck with him.

But, there were more pressing matters for him to attend to. He was no longer alone. He could not see the person, and when he called out to them they did not respond, but he _felt_ them. They were there, in the all-consuming darkness just like he was. Probably in that same state of trapped he had originally been in himself. Soon enough they would be able to introduce themselves. He could wait. He had all of the time in the world, it seemed, whenever he wanted anything but. Now when he did want it, though? Nothing.

He would deal with it, just like everything else, when its time came. For now, he would rest.

. . .

Rhodey had received a frantic phone call later that day, one that had him up and rushing out of headquarters with Natasha and Clint hot on his heels. Wanda had not bothered to try and figure out what it was, had simply looked as bewildered by them leaving as Sam. She could tell by the somber expression Vision adopted shortly after they left that he knew what was going on. He had opted out of sitting with them for dinner, muttering that he would be in his quarters if they needed him.

Sam behaved oddly around her during dinner that night. He was quiet – a truly unusual thing for him – and only really spoke to ask her how she was doing. He ate slowly and kept his eyes on his food otherwise. It was disturbing. Sam was generally loud, and spent a lot of their meals joking around with Rhodey and teasing her or Steve, when he was there. He even occasionally teased Vision, although everyone found out quickly that the android had a very good grasp on sarcasm and used it frequently; something Rhodey had blamed on Stark for some reason.

Something was wrong. Very wrong. She felt it deep within all of the energy around her, felt it gnawing at all of them. It was trying to wear them down. She hated to think that it might do just that.

. . .

On Pepper's third day on life support, Tony had mustered the strength to enter her room.

He had stood awkwardly in the doorway for nearly a minute, eyes on all of the tubes and wires and IVs keeping his love alive. Her hair splayed out messily on the pillow, somehow making the pallor of her skin even more noticeable. Her skin was so sickly white it almost matched with the sheets of her hospital bed. He took hesitant steps into the room. "She would hate this." He said to the room and the other four Avengers behind him.

"Then we'll all just listen to her nagging when she wakes up, won't we, Ton'?" Rhodey kept his tone light for the sake of his friend, patting Tony on the back. The hand lingered there for a moment after, an attempt to help ground Tony. "She'll wake up. Just wait."

"And if she doesn't?" Tony asked softly, moving to take the seat at Pepper's bedside. He slipped his had under one of hers, locking their fingers together loosely. "W-what if she never wakes up? What then? We… We were gonna settle down. _Together_. God, I-I should have asked her while I had the chance; really asked her. I should have just given up my damn pride for _five seconds_, and asked her…" His voice trailed off as his free hand came up to cover his face as best it could. He was falling apart again, just like back in the hallway. He was falling apart, and one of the only people to always be there to help put him back together was probably never going to be able to again. "I _love_ her."

Tony would have likely dissolved into a crying mess once more, had it not been for the gentle squeeze of his hand. His gaze snapped to her, other hand back down. Had she just…? He squeezed back, eyes locked on her face as if to see if there was any sign of her waking up. She needed to wake up, to prove to him that everything was alright. He would not even care if she opened her eyes and everyone started laughing and she said it was all just so clever little prank.

A tentative voice behind him broke through his daydreaming. "Tony? Everything alright?"

It was Steve. Tony let out a shaky breath, squeezing Pepper's hand again before turning back to them. "She squeezed my hand. I thought maybe… well, y'know, maybe she would wake up. But she squeezed my hand. She actually…" Tony looked back to Pepper. She could live. Her life would likely not be as great as before, and she may have to step down from her position as CEO, but she could live. "We need to find Bruce. If anyone could help her, it's him."

Tony was pulling his had away then and charging back out of the hospital room. Four sets of eyes followed him in confusion, Steve moving quickly after him. He was determined to save Pepper. He had to save Pepper.

"Tony, slow down! What if Bruce doesn't want to come back?" Steve asked, reaching out and stopping Tony with a firm grip on his elbow.

Tony lashed out at him, startling the super soldier but doing no damage. "_Don't say that!_" He snapped at him. "Bruce will come back! He would do it for her! Bruce is my best friend, he- he wouldn't let her suffer." _Let me suffer._

Steve pulled his hand back, letting out a long sigh. He shook his head, "I'm probably gonna regret this, but alright. I'm coming with. You're not thinking straight. Someone's gotta make sure you don't get yourself, or anyone else, killed."


	5. Chapter 4

_Author's note: Sorry this is so late! I got a new job recently, just for the summer, so that's taken up a lot of my time. Anyway, this chapter was gonna be longer, but the flow was awkward, so here. Have some more filler. Next chapter should be up by wednesday night about 10pm EST (give or take a day). Again, sorry for the wait. Here's the next chapter._

* * *

**Chapter 4**

The Winter Soldier was mission less. All because of the man from the bridge. His first – and only – failed mission. Dozens upon dozens of successful assassinations… And one man in some extremely patriotic get-up ruined it, ruined _him_. Everything he said stuck with him. All of those dejected looks danced across his eye lids when he tried to get a moment's rest. That face bloodied, but swollen eyes still so determined.

Then those words. Those_ god forsaken_ words. _"'Cause I'm with you 'til the end of the line."_ He had felt a part of him snap internally; not physically, but mentally. Something broke and now he sometimes had no control over his actions. He found himself thinking things, doing things, which he would have never done before. Such actions would have been frowned upon and gotten him wiped again. And he hated the wiping process, so he never did anything to jeopardize himself. Yet, there was no one to wipe him anymore. Hydra had fallen apart. So, he found himself giving in to these odd impulses.

He found he really liked baseball. It was calming to him somehow. He knew everything about how it was played and the rules, and tons about players from the teams back in the '40s. The crowds startled him some, but occasionally someone either drunk or stupid enough would strike up a conversation with him. Those rare times made him feel a sort of sense of longing, for something he had before but could no longer grasp at.

That feeling continued to haunt him until he finally began to look into the name the man from the bridge had given him: James Buchannan Barnes.

It just got worse.

. . .

After his brief encounter with the man from the bridge – _Steve _– he decided to dig deeper for more answers. Sure, the museum had all sorts of information, as well as the internet, but nothing really about who he had been. They all focused on how he had grown up with Steve, or fought alongside Steve, or "died" for Steve. None of that told him who he was. The only person who likely could help him still made him want to lash out or throw up. He did not want to find out which of those would come first.

So he tracked down those who still had a connection to SHIELD, and Hydra by extension. Some brought up dead ends, or rather dead agents, and other brought up… Well, another failed mission. The man with the eyepatch – Nicolas Fury – was something to behold. He did not even seemed frightened by his appearance at the new Avengers base. He simply stood with his back to him in his office, a glass in hand and asked, "What do you want to know?"

"Everything." It came out quick and unintentionally. He stepped back a bit, frowning down at his feet. He should be angry, should kill this man. Finish his mission. But, instead he was here desperately seeking out answers like some child. "I need to know. But-"

"But you don't want to ask him?" The man turned slowly to give him a look Bucky had trouble reading. The eyepatch certainly did not help. "He is your best choice, really, if you want to get back who you were. Or, we could have some of our recruits look into a few ways to clear up your head."

That had him on edge. _No_. He had done terrible things, terrible things that he could not remember. Vague details he knew; who, where, and why. But what actually happened? How? _No_. "I-I can't. I can't remember. Not all of it. I can't." He felt like a broken record. He had just been saying this same thing to the man from the – _Steve _ only a week ago. He shook his head quickly, trying to push away the panic and slow build of adrenaline from it. He did not miss one of Fury's hands slip along the edge of his desk. "I don't remember those _things_ for a reason. I wasn't supposed to. I'm not supposed to."

Fury scowled, "Is it worth hurting your best friend?"

"I don't even remember him. I'll be fine."

"But he won't." Unfortunately, Bucky was gone before he could hear that.

. . .

Rhodey volunteered to stay back with Pepper while Tony and Steve went to fetch the wayward Dr. Banner. "She'll probably like seeing a familiar face if she comes to before you guys get back," He had said. The optimism was appreciated, although Tony doubted she would be waking up without any help. Natasha had opted to return to the Avengers' facility. With Steve gone, someone had to train the newbies. And she felt it best to have someone who was there for the… _Pietro incident_ to monitor Wanda and what she did.

Which left Clint sighing and rolling his shoulders. "Oh, _fine_. I think I'll be able to enjoy semi-retirement, but _no_. I get to go play where's waldo with Cap and the Tin Man. I really hope we find Banner instead of Big Green. I've had this terrible hitch in my shoulder for _weeks_ and…" The rambling continued on as he moved with Steve and Tony to pack up and head out. It was refreshing for Tony. It left less room for him to ramble and panic, and for some reason, he felt like that was what Clint had intended. _Damn bird brain._

Loading the suit onto the quinjet was actually something Tony had thought he would never have to do again. There was an odd thrill from it as he made sure he had everything he would need to make any quick field repairs; he was still _needed_. Why had he considered retirement to begin with? This was where he belonged.

_No. You'll hurt them. They will all die because of you. It is your fault. You'll ruin them. You had to leave. For them._

He winced at his own internal voice. Ah. Yeah, that was why. The vision from before, a clever mind trick by that girl that had felt too real to be ignored. The thing that had started it all. He could not put all the blame for what happened on her, though. He was bound to have a freak out eventually and do something drastic. It was what he did best, after all. He did not know how to save people without destroying them in the process: Yinsen, Happy, Pepper… The line went on and on.

_And now the others. Why are you bothering looking for Bruce? You'll just make it worse. You told him to be happy, to laze about in the sun. Are you really going to take that from him?_

"No, I-" He started to answer himself aloud, snapping back to reality at a soft, "Tony?", from behind. He turned to spot a worried Steve, brows furrowed curiously. "Uh, hey, sorry. Just," He shrugged, tapping his forehead a bit too roughly with a wrench he had been holding. He winced, rubbing the spot. "Just uh, thinking out loud. I do that sometimes. Think. It's-"

"I know, Tony." Steve said, shushing him. The soldier set down his duffle bag in its usual place, moving to do a quick check of supplies. A few long moments of near silence passed between them before he spoke. "Are you sure you can do this?"

_No_. He was not sure. In fact, he was pretty sure he should not be doing any of it. But Pepper's life was at stake. He had taken enough from her already. He owed this to her, more than this. He owed her the sun and the stars, but all he would be able to give her was a mediocre second chance at life, if that. But he could not do it alone. No, he needed Bruce's help for this.

"I have to do this." He said softly, setting all of his tools aside now and moving to take a seat. "Tell tweety to hurry up. We have a rage monster to find."


	6. Chapter 5

**_Author's note: _**_Life is a bitch. My job and summer exams will be ending soon, but then it is right back to actual classes. I will not be abandoning this story by any means, but I apologize if there are occasionally long periods of time between updates. Also, all mistakes are mine. I apologize in advance. If you find something absolutely terrible, please let me know so I can fix it._

* * *

**Chapter 5**

Robert Bruce Banner had a thousand regrets in his life. Who didn't, though? Everyone did things they regretted. A lot of his just so happened to have been more impactful on the rest of society. There were a billion things he wished to go back and change before he had even graduate college that he thought would have somehow kept those major things – _the one_ major regret he had had for the longest time – from happening. When he was younger, he had gone through the, "maybe if I was never born", phase like all who brooded. He could not have done anything to really stop that, however, so as he aged he wished other things could have gone differently.

He wished that his mom had been able to get them both away from his father. She had tried once, around the time he was eight years old. He had come home from school to find two small suitcases packed, and a duffel bag full of his favorite books and toys. "We're going to go on an adventure, Bruce, okay?" His mom had said, but there was a choked way to how she spoke. Like she was struggling on the lie and the tears that would come later in the day, when they would get pulled over by the cops his father had called saying his mom had 'stolen' the car. They escorted them back home, and left Bruce and his mom at his father's drunken mercy.

He broke Bruce's arm and four of his ribs. Then he snapped his mother's neck. Bruce wished the man had possessed the state of mind at the time to kill Bruce as well. Would have stopped a lot of things from occurring, and made his life… Well, not easier, but certainly not as drawn out and difficult. The world would be safer if he had died all those years ago.

Bruce wished that he had never taken the job with the United States Defense Department, because that was what really caused all of the trouble he had found himself in. He was a nuclear physicists; he did not belong on a military base. If he had never taken that job, the Hulk would have never been born. He would just be a regular old, anxious physicists instead of public enemy number one. He would be _normal_.

And he never would have met Betty. Or Tony. Or Clint, Steve, Pepper, Thor, Jane, Doctor Selvig, Sam, Maria, Fury, Coulson…

_Natasha_.

He would have never met Natasha Romanoff, and he hated to say that that was a fact he would be willing to live with. If it meant safety for humanity – _from himself_ – then he would give up any chance he ever had with the gorgeous redhead. Because that was just how Bruce was. He was the self-sacrificing type. He could give and give all day long, and would never take for fear that he would be taking something from someone else who needed it more. That was why he had left her, had not fought the Hulk when he had hung up. The idea of running away with her had been an alluring one, but it would not have worked for him. He _was_ danger. And he could not in good conscience run away with her, no matter how desperately he wanted to.

Perhaps that was his greatest regret; she had been so open and trusting with him in a way he knew she had been with so few in practically her whole life time, and he had blown it. He had taken that trust, held it close for a time, then thrown it right back in her face, crumpled up and torn. She had offered him her heart, _honestly._ And he destroyed it, just like everything else he touched.

The Hulk was not the monster. _He was_. And it appeared that he had visitors to tend to.

. . .

"Oh, Laura is gonna be _pissed_ she missed this. Gosh, can we stay a bit?" Clint asked as he hoped off the quinjet and on to the landing pad. He hurried off of it and into the sand, wishing now that his boots were off so he could actually feel it beneath his feet. "Good _God_, Stark, why'd you keep this hidden? All that damn 'team-bonding' in the woods you let Cap put us through when you had this?" Steve actually blushed just a tad at that, opening his mouth to protest but Clint was not paying him any attention. The archer stood before the beach, arms spread wide at his sides as the sun beat down on him. "I have died and gone to Heaven. Stark-owned Heaven."

Tony rolled his eyes as he clambered off the quinjet to stand beside Cap, sweat already beading on his forehead. He glared half-heartedly at the archer, arms crossed. "This right here is why only Bruce knew about the place. Because I knew as soon as the rest of you knew, you'd be like, 'oh, Tony, let's do team-bonding on the island,' or 'oh, I bet there are all sorts of perfect trees for me to make a new nest in for my secret flock, Tony.'" Clint groaned loudly at the last remark, as did Steve. Tony was still extremely bitter about the hidden family incident. Which he felt was entirely justified, seeing as he had been _housing that damn ingrate canary and he was supposed to be his friend and friends don't keep their family a secret_. He had trusted Clint, let him crawl through the vents to his odd little heart's content, and the ex-carny had repaid him by having a secret family.

It went further than that, though. Tony and Clint may have bickered incessantly around the others, but they really were good friends. Or Tony had thought they were. Clint had found him curled up in the corner of his lab more times than he could count in the midst of a panic attack and just helped him calm down, not cracked any dumb jokes like the others would have expected. And on late nights when the archer just could not rest due to his own PTSD or nightmares, he would come down and Tony would distract him with 'nerd talk' or swapping stories they deemed 'bro-worthy.' The two of them had even started movie nights among the Avengers, where they often tried to out quote the other. Hell, he would have trusted Clint to _hand_ him things before, but after the farmhouse? No. That was all shot (_and Tony found it ironic how it was _shot_ by an archer, but that was beside the point_).

"Tony, c'mon, they're my _family_. You think I'd risk them getting hurt by someone tappin' in to JARVIS and overhearing me sharing that little bit of information?" Clint asked, turning back around to face the other two now. "I've got three kids, Tony. I'd do anything to keep them from getting hurt, especially because of what I do."

"Natasha knew." The genius countered, and he saw the quick flash of hurt across Clint's face at his tone. _Good._

Clint threw his arms up in exasperation, rounding on the engineer. "Can _you_ keep a secret from her? She's one of the best damn spies in the world, Tony. It was either tell her or risk her finding out only part of the truth and hurting my family. I did what I had to do. I'm sorry you don't understand that."

Tony looked like he had been smacked at that and immediately went to give a snappy reply back before Steve was putting himself between the two. "Enough." His voice had that stern, no-nonsense tone to it he always got when on a mission. "Are you two gonna sit here and argue, or are we actually going to find Bruce and bring him home? Because there is a life at stake here, and arguing is not going to save Pepper." That seemed to get the engineer to snap out of his snappish mood, seemingly sinking back into himself. It was rude, Steve felt, to remind Tony of Pepper's condition, but they needed to get a move on. Her life was in their hands at the moment. They had to do this quickly.

"C'mon. Let's see if Hulk made a nest." Steve mumbled, shaking his head and moving to head towards the treeline. He was stopped in his tracks by Tony grabbing his arm a bit roughly, jerking him back. Steve turned to ask what was up, but saw for himself in the distance.

There, approaching them slowly in a stereotypical Hawaiian print pair of swim trunks and with unruly curls that Steve had grown plenty familiar with, was Bruce Banner. "You know, you guys could have just called!" He yelled to them, hands cupping around the scruffy beard he had grown. Banner actually looked… Happy. It was odd.

"We didn't even know for sure that we would find you here." Clint called, jogging quickly through the sand towards their friend. "God, I wish Nat were here, just so I could see her kill you, Banner!" The archer called, Tony and Steve now hot on his heels. Bruce at least had the decency to flinch a bit at the mention of Natasha. He was tackled to the ground moments later, Clint tripping in the sand and sending them both crashing into the beach.

Tony laughed beside Steve, a warm sound that almost made it easy to forget why they were really there in the first place. Almost.

. . .

They did not return for a few days. It would have gone unnoticed by Wanda, were it not for the sudden somber mood that Vision and Sam took on. It was not hard to find out why; Stark's woman was in some sort of coma. Wanda felt bad for her, of course, and for Stark. But she had more important things to worry about. She needed to figure out that thing with her dear Pietro. He had been there, with her. She had felt him. But… He was dead. She had _felt it_, had felt him snap away from her suddenly. She could not forget the feeling of her other half just suddenly… _disappearing_.

For that stark emptiness to suddenly, briefly be gone… She would drive herself mad trying to fill it again. She had to get him back. She did it once. She could do it again. She had to.

She pulled away from the other two, not that they noticed. They were too caught up in their grief. A grief she felt, because it came off of them in waves that crashed into her if they were even a few rooms away. So, if she needed to, she could always use that as an excuse. They did not need to know what she was doing. Resurrecting the dead was generally frowned upon, after all.

This was beyond her. Wanda had been capable of making illusions for short periods of time, mind control, telekinesis, mind reading… but never something of this caliber. Not on purpose, at least. Killing she was more than capable of, though, so she started there. She made use of the huge expanse of woods that surrounded the Avengers base, going out and finding some poor creature, and killing it. Always swiftly, in hopes of keeping the animal's pain to a minimum. It started with a tiny brown field mouse, then a squirrel, a rabbit, a baby deer… She would kill them and sit there over the body for an hour trying to pull their spirit back. Trying to bring them back to this world from wherever their spirits went.

The task soon proved impossible. No matter how hard she focused or tried, the corpses stayed as just that: corpses. She tried grasping the energy that escaped them as soon as they died and putting it back, but that proved fruitless. She could cradle the creature's life energy in her hands, could pull it close so it did not truly pass. But she could not put it back. There was an actual physical resistance. As soon as she got the energy close to the body, it would dissipate. No matter what she did, their life would just slip from between her fingers. Just like her brother.

That was it, though. When her brother did come back, albeit briefly, he had no body. His body was six feet under back in Sekovia. Perhaps she was going about it all the wrong way. She did not near their old bodies. She simply had to make them a new one, which created a whole other slew of problems for her.

Just like the snapping of a twig a few feet away. Her head snapped up from the animal, eyes locking on the intruder. She was up in an instant, holding him tightly in place. "What are you doing here?" She snarled, surging towards her new prey. "This is private property. I could kill you." Her tone was low, and she prayed her accent made her sound threatening. (Clint often joked that it did.)

The voice that greeted her was gruff and broken like its owners mind. "I need to see Steve."


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

His feet felt heavy. It was a heaviness he had not known since before the experiments, when time was still so slow although he had not known it at the time. It was difficult to move, but not impossible. Granted, the darkness was still entirely overwhelming to the point where he may as well have just been standing still. There was no way to see where he was going, no landmarks for him to touch or imperfections in the ground for him to judge the distance by. But there was a growing sense of closeness, of something just inherently _there _as he moved. It was closer. It felt like it was right at the edge of his fingertips. It was right there.

So, Pietro did his best to take a breath – whether he actually did or not, he did not know – and yell. Wanda had always made fun of him for being loud and not thinking of possible dangers before he acted. He imagined she would have then, as he cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled over and over, "Hello! Is anyone there? Hello?" He shouted for what must have been at least five minutes, if not ten or more even. There was no response. Of course there was not. He may feel close, but it was possible they were nowhere near him. Or this other person was a mere figment of his imagination.

It was also very possible that he was just going crazy. He had survived the experiments without going crazy, but had lost his mind stuck in a little never-ending darkness. He made it through one prison with his sanity, just to lose it in another.

There was a soft voice, somewhere to his right – or perhaps his left. He could barely hear it, but it was there. Soft and frightened. Surely he was not insane, if the voice really was answering his calls. There was someone there, someone real. Someone trapped like him. Possibly dead. But he was not alone. And he would gladly never be alone again, even if this other poor soul had to suffer the same fate as he.

"Hello? Tony?"

He made a face, not that this other person – a woman, by the sound of her voice – could see it. "Tony? No, my name is Pietro, much cooler. Where are you?" He stayed impossibly still, more still than he had been in years. He listened as well as he could, waiting for that voice. Waiting to go to her, whoever she is.

"A… I'm in a hospital room. I can't open my eyes, but I can hear the monitors. I can't move, but I feel those stupid paper sheets under my fingers." Her voice was timid, unsure. There was an underlying sense of fear, like this woman was worried for what may happen to her. She should be worried, he thought. Soon enough, she would likely join him there in the dark. Permanently. He knew this, and he imagined that deep down, so did she.

"You are better off than me, friend. I am dead. I am nowhere. Surrounded by the dark." Pietro did his best not to sound bitter. "I have a sister, a twin. She still lives. Wanda." He said to the stranger, starting to ramble on and on about his life and his sister's. This person listened, occasionally stopping him to input a story similar to one of his from her own childhood, or to ask a question.

She did not really stop him until he started talking about the day his parents died. "It said, clear as day, Stark Industries." He said, tone turning sour and dark. "For two days, my sister and I waited for Tony Stark to kill us. Thankfully, he never did."

"I'm so sorry," She mumbled, sounding so genuine it hurt.

He snorted, "Do not be. I met the man, eventually. He… He was not so bad. A bit misguided at times, but I understood it. When you care for someone, or a group of someones, so deeply… You do what you must. No matter the costs." He wanted to choke back a sob, barely doing that. "We are not so different, Stark and I."

"I'm sure you and Tony got along great." The voice sounded teary. He was tempted to ask why the voice was crying. There was no reason for her to be so sad, but she spoke before he could ask. "How did you die, Pietro?"

"I saved a man who I was fighting with. We got off to a rocky start, but he was kind to my sister and I; a father figure, almost. He was trying to save a boy, but…" He took a deep breath. "But Ultron had taken one of the jets, firing it for him. So, I saved him. I put myself and this car in the way, so he and the boy could live."

"What was his name?"

. . .

"Clint."

He snapped his head up, looking at their "fearless leader" from where he had fallen back on the plush couch when they entered the living room of Tony's Island Mansion. He propped his feet up on the arm of the couch, his arms crossed behind his head on the other. "Yes, Cap?" He asked, smiling lazily.

"There isn't time to laze around. We need to get Bruce packed and back to the Quinjet so we can get him to Pepper." Clint heard it, though. Clint heard the doubt. They both knew the odds of Pepper surviving this unscathed were about zero to none. They were just going through the motions at this point, really, to try and keep Tony sane. No one just told their friend to give up when they were in a situation like this. Especially not when they were Tony Stark, king of PTSD.

Clint swung his legs, moving so he was sitting up. He ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "Y'know I hate to be the barer of bad news, Steve, but… She ain't gonna make it. Let's face it, okay? We're just giving Tony false hope." Steve opened his mouth to speak and Cling held up his hand to silence the American Righteousness that was about to leave his mouth. "Don't. You know I'm right. If she lives, she's miserable and so is he. If she doesn't… Well, if she doesn't, we'll have to keep an eye on him for a while. But… Doing this? Telling him it will all work out? That's just gonna make it all worse. You know that, Steve. _You know it._"

"That doesn't mean _shit,_" The word left his mouth with such venom and absolutely no hesitance and it startled Clint. There was a fire in those usually calm blue eyes, a firm set to his shoulders Clint only knew from going into battle with him. Steve shook his head, pacing a few steps and sticking his hands in his pockets. "This means everything to Tony. And, unless I missed something, he means a lot to us. He was part of our team, and always will be as far as I'm concerned. He's our friend, Clint. Do you want to go there and tell him to just give up and pull the plug on the woman he loves? Would you want us to tell you that, if Laura goes comatose?"

Clint's face contorted in anger at that, "It's not the same. That's my fucking wife. The mother of my kids. I love-"

"Love her, right?" Steve cut him off, circling around the room before movie towards him. "Tony may go about it weird, but you know he loves her. They've been through a lot." And Steve was right. They both knew he was. Tony was impossibly dedicated to that woman; she kept him grounded when they had all been gone. She pieced him together time and time again, and asked for nothing in return because she had felt it was her job.

But then it wasn't. Then she was the CEO, and he was just Iron Man. And she had stayed, continued to hold him together. Tony had become grossly dependent on her, and later on them. He played the lone wolf, but they all knew he was not. He needed people, them, but he especially needed Pepper. Which is why they were here. Because Tony needed Pepper, and he needed them to try and help piece her back together – literally.

Steve spoke a lot softer this time. "Whenever any of us have needed _anything_, Tony was there in an instant. He never hesitated." And of course he was right. Steve was always right. "This is the least we could do for him."

Clint sighed, "I know."

"Then get up. We need to get going as soon as possible." Steve said, jerking his thumb to the main room before moving there himself. "Got a lot of flying to do in a bit."

Clint waited for the man to leave the room before standing from his place on the couch. The place really was nice. Maybe he could talk Tony into a group vacation there. Then again, maybe hell would also freeze over.

. . .

"So, let me get this straight." Sam started, making a face as he kept his gun trained on the Winter Soldier. Wanda had the man bound by whatever freaky magic-energy stuff she pulled, for which he was thankful. He would hate being thrown around by that damn arm again. No, thank you. "You hid yourself from Steve, who is supposed to be your best friend, because you were worried he would make you remember?" God, it sounded even stupider to Sam when he said it out loud. The soldier just gave him a jerky nod, eyes darting from Vision to Wanda and back to Sam. "Do you know how dumb that is? Steve can't _make_ you remember shit, asshole. He's strong, but he's not miss mind freak over there." He jerked his thumb at Wanda, adding a quick, "No offense."

"You don't get it," Barnes snapped, jerking as if to lash out at Sam. Thank god for Wanda's freaky powers.

Vision spoke up just as Sam was about to say something else (which was a good thing, because he probably would have said something that would have gotten him in trouble with Steve). "You're afraid." His tone sounded curious as he stated that. "You worry your friend will not want you around, although you don't even remember your time as his friend. You worry he'll reverse everything HYDRA did. That he'll make you remember your crimes.

"It is a stupid fear."

Barnes spat in Vision's direction and the android just gave him a wry look. "You don't get it. None of you get it."

Which went on for another five minutes, Sam just sort of standing there and letting the assassin rant about how they did not get it. He kept saying over and over again that he needed to talk to Steve. Over and over again, it came back to Steve. Which made sense, really. Steve was the root of it all, but it was starting to annoy Sam how one moment the guy was like, "I can't let him see me", and then was like, "I need to see him immediately where is Steve." He rolled his eyes, holster the gun and crossing his arms over his chest. "You can't see him. Steve's not here."

That cut the rambling short. The soldier looked at him with wide eyes. "What do you mean he isn't here? He has to be."

"He went with Stark and Barton to try and find Dr. Banner." Wanda answered, still holding Barnes in place. "Stark's woman has fallen ill, and they were hoping that Dr. Banner could save her."

Sam nodded, "What she said." He shoved his hands in the pockets of his cargo pants, trying to find something to do with them. He was glad to have found the guy, but it was too weird for him. Something was off about how he just appeared here. He wanted more than anything to just punch the guy in his dirty face for nearly killing Sam's best friend, but he did not. He had better impulse control than to let that happen. Hence, why he had his hands shoved in his pockets. "You're gonna have to wait until Steve makes it back here to talk to him. There isn't shit we can do about it. And, if you haven't realized, there is no way in hell you can get away or sneak around." Sam pointed at his teammates. "You might be able to take me down, but not these two. So, you can either cooperate until Steve arrives, or we can take care of you like we would any other international fugitive. No matter how much Steve might care for you."

"I can't wait." Barnes started to complain, but Sam just leveled him with a look.

"Tough shit."


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Pepper was pretty silent a lot of the time, and Pietro was perfectly fine with that. It gave him more time to chatter, and share little bits and pieces of his life with this woman who was essentially a stranger. She would speak up occasionally, actually going so far as to scold him once or twice. She was a kind soul, though. A bit rough at times, although in the same sense that his mother had been growing up; a sort of rough that just came with having to deal with something like a troublesome ten year old or an equally rambunctious 40 year old. A roughness that was just as gentle, if not more so, when it needed to be.

Admittedly, he wondered why Pepper was there with him. Was it because of Wanda, like he imagined had caused his own time in this void? Perhaps this woman knew his sister. Maybe she could get her a message, when she escaped this, because he really hoped she would. He had resigned himself to his fate here. He was dead, after all. Pepper, this kind soul, still heard people talking to her on occasion; she was simply comatose. There was hope for her.

He had been in the ground for god only knew how long by the time Pepper showed up. Although he had been able to see Wanda briefly, he did not count on that again. It had been dangerous. And after, Pepper had appeared in the darkness with him. If Wanda did that again, who was to say someone else would not show up? He would not let that be on neither of their consciences if he could help it.

"When you get back to the real world," Pietro said in a soft voice, hands clenching and unclenching in his lap. (He could not see them. Of course not. But he felt them. Felt the calluses on his hands and light hair on his knuckles. It was strange. He thought he was staring right at them, but who knew?) He swallowed, trying to push his anxiety down. "When you wake up or whatever, I need you to find my sister. Tell her not to waste this chance on me. That I am fine, da?"

His request went unanswered for a long moment, and he worried briefly that he had already missed his chance. But he felt her near, like he had since she appeared. So it was not the case. He heard a soft pull of breath, a sigh, and then a soft, "And if neither of us get out of… this?"

"I am an optimist. Or, I am trying to be. It is difficult at times. I feel as if I have been alone in this shithole for years, and would hate to be alone again, but you have people to return to, no? You will get back, and it will be alright, and you can pass my message onto Wanda." It had to happen. After all, he told himself, she is not dead. She is still very much alive, in a hospital, getting help. She could wake up. She _would_ wake up, if Pietro had any say in it. No person deserved to be stuck in this suffocating darkness, especially not one as nice as this woman. Pietro was not so sure about himself in that sense; he had not gone to Hydra with good intentions. He had not left them with good intentions, either. He had joined up with Ultron initially, only leaving when Wanda figured out the machine's actual plans for the world. Even then, he had been reluctant to join the Avengers. Fighting Ultron had been part of the plan. Fighting Ultron with Stark? Pietro almost wanted to abandon the man to his death, but doing so could have also meant the death of the entire world. So, he put his hatred for the man aside and helped.

Maybe that had redeemed him somewhat. That, and saving the Hawk.

He heard another sigh, this one sadder than the last. "Okay. I promise."

. . .

The quinjet was dead silent as they flew back, getting caught in a storm for a bit. Tony stayed seated in the back with Bruce, going through the notes he had about Pepper's condition with the other scientist for the thousandth time as if that would somehow show something magical and new. Clint peeked back on them occasionally, letting out a soft huff of air before turning his full attention back to flying the quinjet. There was not supposed to be any storms on the way back. Tony had checked, just so they could prepare for the proper flight conditions. So much for meteorologists ever getting anything right. He sighed, perhaps a bit dramatically, turning to Cap.

He paused before opening his mouth, biting back the joke he had been ready to say. The super soldier's face looked grim, sitting as if he were on high alert. He cocked one brow up in question. "Y'all good, Cap? Look… well, spooked, almost." He chuckled a bit, trying to lighten the almost smothering gloom surrounding them; the storm definitely did not help. The guy was already antsy when they flew over large bodies of water. Clint doubted that this helped any.

"This is all just… very familiar," came the whispered reply, Steve looking straight ahead. Not that he could see very far beyond the grey of the storm clouds, their mass seemingly all-encompassing. No matter how high or how low he flew, they seemed to be there. Clint could not escape them.

A crack of thunder so loud is shook the quinjet had them all jumping, heads snapping around in search of… what, really? Clint huffed, settling back in his seat and leaving the panicking to the rest of them. He knew what they were looking for, or whom rather. They were hoping Thor would just appear out of thin air, grinning and laughing and just being him. It was a dumb thing to hope for. Thor had Asgard to take care of, and while Clint loved having the guy around, he understood having other responsibilities. Especially ones you had spent so much time running from.

And was that not sad to dwell on, albeit briefly? The fact that, ultimately, he had been avoiding his family by joining the Avengers full-time following the collapse of SHIELD. It made him feel young, and important. It gave him purpose again, especially after the Loki incident. That had rattled something in his brain, messed him up. He had not been able to share a bed with Laura for months, and still struggled to most nights. She would touch him in their sleep, and suddenly he would awaken with a knife at her throat and his heart in his stomach. Loki had broken him, broken his mind, no matter what the shrinks said. He was not fine, although he did a fantastic job of pretending to be most of the time. Lila and Cooper did not know about the struggle their parents were having staying together, especially with Nate now. He was really the only reason they had been trying to fix them.

Well, trying whenever Clint did not have an excuse to be away, that is.

The archer shook himself from his depressing thoughts, expression sour as he just flew the quinjet. There was no time to dwell on his failing marriage, or how shitty a father he was. There was no time for that. They had to try and save Pepper before Tony went off the deep end, as he had been inching towards for days now. And, as they all had come to know in recent months, a Tony Stark sent of the deep end was not one they wanted to deal with again. No one wanted a repeat of the Ultron incident.

. . .

Sam was not sure which he hated more: silent Bucky or talkative Bucky. He was currently dealing with the silent one, and while that was mildly refreshing compared to the constant, "I need to see Steve," it was still troublesome. The man just sat in a chair, back slouched and arms resting perfectly on the arm rests. His eyes stayed focused straightforward, expression lost. At least chatty Kathy Bucky had not looked so dead. There had been life to him; annoying life, but life nonetheless.

Sam had deemed this Bucky as unthreatening, leaving him alone in the common room for a brief moment. He slipped out to the hallway, pulling out his cellphone and just staring at it for a long moment. Steve had sent a text out earlier, saying that they were about an hour out from the compound, with Dr. Banner. It seemed that Tony's mission to nowhere had not been useless after all. He was thankful that at least something was starting to work out for them, although his last update from Rhodey had not been good. He prayed, for both Tony and the World's sake, that they could save Pepper.

"He's going to tear them apart." The soft growl of a voice behind him had Sam nearly jumping through the ceiling, heart practically leaping from his chest. His head snapped to the side as Sam clutched the phone to his chest, glaring daggers into Bucky. The man just stood there, arms hanging limply at his side, hair falling in his face. He looked possessed almost, and Sam did his best not to worry about his life suddenly going from action movie to horror movie. "I need to tell Steve. He is going to tear them apart."

Well, that certainly did not sound ominous or anything, Sam thought. Occasionally, he regretted befriending Steve that day in DC. It got him into crazy shit like this. He slid one foot back, bracing to inch away from the man if he were to suddenly snap. Sam would not put it passed him. "Who is going to tear them apart? Who is them?"

"I don't know who he is." Bucky's reply was soft, pitiful. He sounded terrified, which was a terrifying thing on its own. "Fury would not give me answers. But, Steve must know him. He said he knew Steve. But, I never saw anything about him at the museum. And the stuff I found online was minimal. Pictures. Rumors. Nothing concrete." Bucky's left hand started to clench and unclench slowly, as if it were waking up. He shook his head to knock some hair back, and Sam noted his blue eyes did not look quite so depressing and empty. "But, he is dangerous. I couldn't even touch him. Steve needs to know. He's coming. He said he is going to tear them apart. Tear everyone apart." From there, Bucky stumbled into rambling in some other language, maybe Russian but Sam would not know. His left hand continued to clench and unclench, but his expression went vacant again as he just rambled on and on and on.

"… Okay. So, broken Bucky. What's new?" Sam huffed, shoving his phone back in his pocket and ignoring the feel of dread settling deep in his stomach as he went to guide Bucky back to the chair. "Steve'll be here soon enough, man. You can go all nutso again for him, yeah? Cause there is no way in hell I'll get across the right levels of crazy. So, just don't go all brain smoothie before he gets back, okay? Cool." Sam pat Bucky's shoulder weakly, slipping away once more and pulling out his phone to shoot Steve a quick text.

_Man, you won't believe how my last couple days have gone. Gotcha a present at the compound. Hurry back. Tell Stark and Banner I'm rootin' for them. –S_

. . .

Natasha loved to visit the farm. She loved the tiny excited cheers and grins and all of the hugs and the feeling of just _right_ that being there brought. She could not get enough of baby slobbery kisses, or drawings from Lila, or Cooper showing her how good he was getting with a bow. She did her best to ignore how tired Laura looked, and to just bask in her time with her niece and nephews. They were not her biologically, she would never be so lucky as to know that feeling, but that did not matter to them. It never had. And she planned to never let that bother her either. They were hers. They always had been, and always would be.

She had grown to especially love time with Nathaniel. He was such a sweet baby, and very bright for his age. He had bright blue eyes and dark blond hair, just like his father. Natasha hoped for his parents' sake that he did not grow up to be quite as mischievous as his father had apparently been as a child. She had not known him then, but had heard stories. She wished she had known him, then. It would have been nice to have a childhood.

A soft coo pulled her from her thoughts, Nate grinning up at her, all gums and innocence. He had one fist near his mouth, the sheen of spit telling her exactly where it had been a moment prior. She gave a fond roll of her eyes, kissing his little nose and taking both tiny fists in hand. She gently lifted him to stand on her thighs, laughing when he giggled happily. He made as if to clap his hands, pausing briefly when he realized he could not because they were being held. His little face scrunched up for a brief moment. Natasha was immediately shushing him, moving to hold him up by his sides instead. "Easy, malysh." She said, voice gentle but urgent as she tacked on the endearment. "It is okay. See? You have your hands back. I'm sorry."

He calmed pretty quickly, sniffling a bit. His already went fist was immediately shoved in his mouth, and Natasha could not help but smile. It was so sweet. So innocent. She should not be touching something so pure, yet he would fuss if she put him down. How had this come to be her life? She did not deserve those adoring little blue eyes and sweet dimples. But she would gladly take them. She would take every bit of love Nathaniel and his siblings would give her. Maybe, just maybe, it would clear her ledger. Maybe-

A sharp pain in her back and abdomen has her gasping, grip on Nathaniel slipping briefly. He falls beside her onto the bed, immediately screaming out and crying. Natasha suddenly finds it hard to breathe or focus, hand groping for something. Her eyes drift down, and she sees gold sticking through her – the end of a spear.

"My, my, my." A voice purred in her ear. "What do we have here?"


End file.
